


Your Empire Falls

by MrEvilside



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF Loki (Marvel), Betrayal, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Loki (Marvel), Hotel Artemis AU, It Gets Worse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 19:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEvilside/pseuds/MrEvilside
Summary: The Grandmaster, the city's crime lord, has Odin Valtyr killed. His sons, Thor and Loki, are not forgiving him.Also, as per usual, Loki has his own agenda.





	Your Empire Falls

**Your Empire Falls**

 

_Six months ago._

 

Loki thought the worst part of losing your childhood home in a fire would be to watch. Watch as the flames feasted on familiar cream-coloured walls, on your mothers’ daisies on the windowsill, on the old, sturdy wooden door, whose sight used to welcome you.

            _Oh, but was I wrong_.

            The stench was much, much worse. The house used to smell like blueberry pancakes – Frigga’s and Thor’s favourites – and cleaning spray and fabric softener, but Loki knew now he wouldn’t remember anything other than the acrid tang of charred wood, ashes, and smoke.

            He couldn’t take his eyes off the building, so, when he caught Thor staring at his phone screen, he hissed through his teeth. ‘What are you _doing_?’

            Thor shook his head. A strong wind – the same that was carrying Death’s breath over to the pavement, where they stood side by side – whipped strands of unruly blonde hair against his cheeks. He handed Loki the phone.

            A message flashed on the screen:

_Terribly sorry. Wish your dad had seen things my way. ~~~~_

_––The Grandmaster_

 

Loki’s fingers tightened around the device. The man had had the gall to leave his _signature_.

            He turned to face Thor and laid a hand on his shoulder, green eyes boring into blue irises. ‘I swear to you, brother,’ Loki declared. ‘We’ll kill the bastard.’

            Thor flinched, but he didn’t look away. Slowly, he nodded and drew Loki into a hug. Loki let Thor burrow his face against his shoulder and dampen the fabric of his leather jacket with silent tears that shook his big, broad back. He wasn’t going to keep the jacket, anyway. The stench had already impregnated the cloth.

 

_Today._

 

Loki’s favourite cologne, Jo Malone’s Pomegranate Noir, served as a sophisticated counterpoint to the alley he was crossing: narrow, dark, with a bent lamppost providing a poor excuse for illumination. Black leather calf boots click-clacked against the concrete, occasionally dodging crumpled paper, crushed cans, and empty syringes littering the ground. With his denim jacket, a white linen shirt, and a silver watch on his left wrist, he stood out like a bleeding wound on a pristine black canvas.

            The alley terminated at the back of thirty storeys of old, dark red bricks and leaking drainpipes. A locked pair of metal double doors had a plaque that read, _Hotel Sakaar_ , and an exit sign flashed neon green at irregular intervals. Next to it was a fat black dumpster with a green lid. Loki considered leaning against the wall on the other side of the door, looked more closely at the thick layer of dust and other unidentifiable dirt covering it, and stayed where he was. He took a small, nondescript black phone – an old model with a real keyboard – and dialled a number.

            ‘Yes?’

            Thor’s voice came out like a distorted rumble through the outdated speaker: ‘Yes, hello?’

            He spoke in a fast whisper, which made Loki roll his eyes. He could picture his brother darting suspicious looks at his surroundings as he hunched his shoulders and tried to look “inconspicuous”. _At least he remembered not to use my name_ , he thought.

            ‘I’m here. Count three hours from now,’ he instructed, then made to end the call.

            Thor must have heard the rustle of his clothes, because he exclaimed, ‘Loki, wait!’

            Loki refrained from giving himself a facepalm. _So much for a secret operation_. He listened to his brother’s laboured breath until Thor realised he was waiting, and mumbled, ‘Be careful.’

            Loki would have heaved a sigh if Thor’s voice hadn’t been so soft, so delicate, like glass. He could have broken his big brother like a child crushes a butterfly in his fist. Instead, he murmured, ‘Yes. I will.’

            He hit the red button, stomped on the burner phone, collected the pieces, and dropped them into the dumpster one at a time, making sure they would fall in different places and sink under the other garbage, hidden. Finally, he walked up to the double doors and knocked on them with his knuckles: three times slow, twice fast, and four more times slow.

            The door opened a fraction, revealing a stocky woman in yellow overalls over a grey long-sleeved top. The vivacious attire produced a jarring contrast with her tight topknot of dark hair and the scowl on her plump face, as if she had been painted by an artist on drugs.

            She stared at him for an uncomfortable length of time, trying to incinerate him with her gaze. When her stubborn attempts failed, she stepped aside. She didn’t seem inclined to open the door any wider, so Loki had to press himself against her to get in. ‘Nice to see you, too,’ he snorted.

            The woman huffed, wrapped a length of chains around the two handles, and turned a minuscule key into a big padlock. The lock clicked and the key disappeared somewhere inside the overalls, but it was too fast and too dark for Loki to follow its path. They were squeezed into a tiny foyer, poorly lit by another emergency sign above a lift.

            ‘What is it this week?’ Loki asked, ending a stretch of uncomfortable silence.

            ‘Topaz,’ was the dry answer. His eyebrows jumped up, making a valiant attempt at leaving his face, and she muttered, ‘The Grandmaster’s choice, not mine.’

_Well, he does call himself “the Grandmaster”_ , Loki argued, if only mentally, and nodded to the lift. ‘Penthouse as usual?’

            ‘He’s still busy.’ She looked him up and down and scrunched up her nose as though smelling something vile. ‘You’re early.’

            _“Thanks for changing the topic, Loki”_ , Loki mused to himself, mimicking the woman’s voice, and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You think I’d keep this city’s crime lord _waiting_?’

            For the first time that night – and perhaps the third since he’d met her – Topaz grinned. ‘I wish.’

            ‘Keep dreaming,’ Loki scoffed and, with a glance at his watch, turned away from her to head for the lift. ‘Have a good night, _Topaz_.’

            ‘You, too…’ Her voice rose over the buzz of the lift doors sliding open. After Loki stepped in and pushed a button with a P on its shiny metal surface, her final word struck him like a belated arrow: ‘… _Lackey_.’

            Loki glared at her, but the lift doors were already closing over her smirk, so he didn’t have time to protest. He leant his lower back against one of the mirrored walls and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans, watching as the numbers on the control panel flashed red one by one, floor after floor. Finally, the machine stopped and the doors were released with another sound.

            The lobby was spacious and empty, the floor was polished black marble, three walls were white, and the fourth was a window, which offered an eagle eye’s view of the city’s glassy skyscrapers and web of endless little streets, the lights of hundreds of cars and lampposts gleaming in the night like tiny jewels.

            There was only a heavy black wooden door, without any plaque or number. Loki approached it at a leisurely pace and paused when he was close enough to make out soft voices on the other side.

            ‘You _have_ to let me take care of it,’ a woman was saying.

            In response came a deep male voice with a lilting speech pattern that Loki had come to consider as familiar as Thor’s: ‘You, you don’t understand, dear…’

            ‘No, _you_ don’t understand!’

            The woman’s words penetrated through the door like lances, loud and clear, so Loki recognised her. _Valkyrie, huh? She always gets the best code names_.

            ‘You’ve been cooped up here too long. No one gives a shit about your “authority”,’ she hissed. ‘When Thor Valtyr[1] finds the gut to come for you, the city will rise with him.’ A sharp metallic clang and a thump followed. ‘So you’d better let me kill him for you or your empire falls.’

            Silence. Loki had a hand already closed over the doorknob and a speech prepared to dissuade the Grandmaster, when the man replied, ‘Listen, doll. Darling. I see your, your point – I do! – but you, you always worry too, too much. Listen.’ Another noise interrupted him, though Loki couldn’t make out what it was. It sounded like someone was sawing wood. ‘C’mon, put that down. Listen. I’m sorry I’ve been a little, a little secretive, I suppose, but I have, well, I have a secret weapon.’

            That gave Valkyrie some pause. ‘And what’s that?’

            Finally, Loki pushed the door open and stepped into the penthouse as if he owned the place, announcing, with a flourishing hand gesture pointing at his chest, ‘That would be me.’

            The entrance gave access to a vast office with a pair of red leather couches, a real tiger skin rug, a glass coffee table, and a wide mahogany desk that stood close to the window running along the entirety of the wall opposite the front door.

            A tall, dark-skinned woman was bent over the desk, palms slammed on its surface, with one fist closed over a knife. There was a dent in the wood next to her, so Loki realised the sawing noise must have been caused by her removing the knife from the desktop. That also explained the earlier metallic clang and the thump.

            The Grandmaster sat on a golden chair behind the desk, clad in a garish red shirt tucked into gold-trimmed blue trousers. His silver hair was styled to stand up on his head like a punk teenager’s, and he wore blue eyeshadow and matching nail polish. When he saw Loki, he stood up and clapped, blue eyes dancing between him and Valkyrie.

            ‘Aw, what a show! A, a brilliant entrance!’ He chuckled. ‘Indeed, dear, err… What did Topaz pick for you?’

            To his credit, Loki kept a straight face. ‘Lackey.’

            Valkyrie snorted and the Grandmaster frowned. ‘What? Oh, no no no, that’s so… that’s so _mean_! I, ah, I’ll have to have a word with Topaz,’ he blurted out. ‘Anyway, he is, he is _it_. My secret weapon,’ he confirmed, nodding to Valkyrie.

            Valkyrie regarded Loki as though he were a worm. ‘With his _amazing_ track record for loyalty?’

            ‘You don’t understand, love.’ All of a sudden, the Grandmaster’s stutter disappeared and his voice dropped low. Valkyrie stiffened and straightened her back. ‘Lackey and I here, we’ve got a deal. He knows what’s good for him and, well, the Valtyrs never were. But I am.’ He cast an intense look at Loki that sent a shiver running down his spine. ‘Tell us the news from our old friend, honey.’

            Loki cleared his throat. ‘I called him when I arrived. He suspects nothing.’

            As soon as it had changed only moments before, the atmosphere in the room shifted again as the Grandmaster broke into a wide smile, waltzed over to Loki as if floating, and wound an arm around his waist to draw him closer. ‘You’re, you’re so precious!’ he giggled into his ear. His breath was lukewarm on Loki’s neck and smelt like mint and metal.

            Valkyrie stared between them, sighed, and raised both hands, showing her palms. ‘Suit yourself, boss.’ She slid the knife into the waistband of her black trousers and made for the door. As she passed him, Loki noticed she was swinging slightly on her feet and reeked of strawberry-flavoured vodka. ‘Just pray Lackey’s as good a killer as I am.’

            The door slammed close behind her. The Grandmaster pretended to flinch and gave Loki an impish grin. ‘Ouch. How mad do you think she is?’

            His arm was still around Loki’s midsection and his hand inched down towards his lower back. Loki smirked, too, and turned into the sideways embrace so they were facing each other and he could put his arms around the Grandmaster’s neck.

            ‘She’ll get over it.’ He lifted himself onto his toes to bring their faces inches apart, then tilted his own to the side. His next question was a soft whisper. ‘So, am I killing Thor?’

            The Grandmaster’s fingers dug into his hips as though they were claiming him.

            ‘Well, if you, if you don’t mind.’ The man’s brown eyes were dark with thoughts that had very little to do with murder. Electricity coursed through Loki’s body as the Grandmaster murmured, ‘But I have, ah, other ideas first.’

 

_Six months ago._

 

The fistful of soil squeezed between Loki’s fingers made no sound as it fell over the honey-coloured wooden coffin. A few feet away from him, Thor threw his own handful onto a matching casket. Almost in unison, they backed away and watched as a tall, lanky man with hands as rough and twisted as old bark stepped forward with a shovel and began filling the first hole.

            Loki’s eyes kept flitting between the undertaker and the gravestone. Finally, they fixated upon the latter, a smooth slab of white stone decorated with simple capital letters: _Odin and Frigga Valtyr. Beloved parents, together in life and death._

            ‘Loki? Loki?’

            Loki glanced up, an eternity later, and realised the two holes had been covered, the old undertaker was gone, and Thor was shaking his shoulder.

            ‘We need to go,’ Thor whispered.

            Loki looked into his eyes, bent over with his hands on his knees, and threw up onto the dark green grass.

 

_Now._

 

‘How do you even do it?’

            The Grandmaster’s king-sized bed could have comfortably hosted five people. He and Loki were lying together in the middle. Loki propped himself on one elbow and grinned at his lover, only half joking, ‘Do you need another demonstration?’

            The Grandmaster burst into laughter. ‘Not that, silly.’ He shifted onto his side, too, so he could look Loki in the eye. ‘I mean, how do you act so well? I thought I was good at lying, but _you_ … You just take it to a whole new level.’

            Loki laid a hand on his chest and playfully shoved him onto his back, then crawled over his body and straddled his waist. The Grandmaster giggled again and rested his warm hands on Loki’s warmer thighs, tanned fingers spread across pale skin.

            ‘Odin was an old bastard and Thor’s too naïve to take his place.’ Loki shrugged. The undulating motion rippled through his entire body, driving his hips against the Grandmaster’s. The tantalising pressure made them both gasp. Loki placed one hand on either side of the Grandmaster’s head and leant forward, breathing over the man’s lips. ‘Besides, you have more power. It’s all very good incentive.’

            He smiled at the Grandmaster, then looked up and to the side, aware of the man’s gaze following his own to a bedside table, where a small bottle sat close to the edge. As Loki reached for it, the Grandmaster heaved an anticipatory sigh. ‘Well, I, ah, I can’t say I’m not _pleased_ by our arrangement…’

            ‘Unfortunately,’ Loki cut him off, pulling his hand back. ‘You did kill my mother, too.’

            By the time the Grandmaster realised the bottle was still on the table, Loki’s knife was already piercing his chest. Loki pushed with both hands, until he heard the crack of the man’s ribcage breaking against the blade. The Grandmaster coughed bubbles of blood and locked eyes with Loki for the last time. His usual impish grin was stained red.

            Loki’s hands were shaking as he got off the corpse, warm blood trickling down his fingers and dripping on the floor. Loki stared at the pool of liquid fire spreading on the white bed sheets, at the same sticky redness on his hands, and threw up on the lino.

 

_Six days later._

 

The gravestone looked as clean as if still new. Loki looked at the familiar words without truly reading them, hands clad in thick black gloves and hidden in the pockets of his knee-length black anorak. ~~~~

            ‘Brother!’

            He turned and saw Thor’s hulking figure hurrying in his direction. Neither of them smiled, but Thor stopped a feet away from him and opened his arms. Without a word, Loki stepped into the hug and breathed in the comforting smell of Thor’s deodorant and aftershave.

            Thor squeezed him, then released him with a gasp, staggering backwards. He looked down, eyes wide. He saw a knife sticking from his gut, but he shook his head, as if the image didn’t make any sense.

            Loki watched him glance up at him, reach out for him, crumble onto his knees, and finally fall to the side, his legs bent at a comic angle, as though he was trying to run away.

            ‘You always were so naïve,’ Loki whispered, blinking furiously, eyebrows twisting into a wistful expression as he cast one last glance at the tombstone. ‘I’m the better heir, really.’

            Clutching the knife firmly, he noticed his hands weren’t shaking. He didn’t feel like throwing up, either. So he turned and walked away.

 

[1] Meaning “slain god,” it is one of Odin’s names.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a class at university (I know, it's awesome). This means I had a word limit, which was a pain, but it also prevented me from turning this into a novel I'd never hope to finish. I hope you enjoyed it, even if it isn't a very long piece!
> 
> The setting and the Grandmaster's role are obviously inspired by Hotel Artemis. The film was terrible, to be honest. Not even Jeff Goldblum could save it. However, the premise was pretty cool, so I stole it. Also, **littlestr** on Tumblr asked me to write a Hotel Artemis FrostMaster AU months ago, so I had to get off my butt and actually do it (sorry for the wait).
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it!


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